“What did he say?”
“Wanted to talk to you. Said it was very urgent.”
Bob still stared at the sheet of paper in his hands.
“Maybe I ought to talk to the Chief first,” he said, “but he won’t be around until after six o’clock. It isn’t five yet. Well, here goes.”
He picked up the telephone and called the number. Briggs listened intently while the conversation followed.
“Mr. Westcott?” said Bob. “This is Robert Galvin. Yes… Nephew of Theodore Galvin… Yes, I knew you were a friend of his… Tonight? Yes… At the Cobalt Club, for dinner? Very well, I’ll be glad to join you there, sir…”
His comments ended as he listened intently. The man at the other end was speaking at considerable length. Briggs wondered what it was about.
“Well,” cut in Bob, “I’ve met very few of my uncle’s friends… Wait… How about Hiram Mallory? That’s fine… Yes, I believe I can arrange for him to join us… Seven o’clock then, at the Cobalt Club.”
Bob hung up the receiver and grinned as he faced Briggs.
“Thaddeus Westcott,” he said. “One of the three. We were figuring on him for last. Now, he’ll come second. Tonight.